Math Club and Other Sources of Disaster
by glamaphonic
Summary: On her first day at Gotham Academy, Artemis makes a new friend. Dick flips out. Wally trolls.
1. Orientation

If Artemis was honest with herself — and, as a general rule, she tried to be — she fully expected to end up sitting in the administrative office at Gotham Academy sooner or later.

She just wouldn't have predicted that it would happen before she'd had a chance to attend a single class. Artemis had no illusions that her matriculation at Gotham Academy would ever be fun, but she wanted to hope for at least "not unbearable."

Her mother had done her best with the note, but apparently missing orientation just wasn't done for transfer students, nebulous (imaginary) medical emergencies notwithstanding. And it wasn't as if Artemis could explain that she'd been on a covert superhero mission with the junior Justice League that went long. So, she had no real choice but to bear up under the dubious looks and lectures, delivered with dutiful, fake smiles, but not remotely softened by them.

First, there had been the principal Dr. Warren who might as well have just outright stated that she didn't think Artemis was a fit for this school — or this side of town — since it would have saved them both a lot of time. Instead, there was the thirty minute explanation of What Was Expected of a prestigious and elite student of the prestigious and elite Gotham Academy. For the most part it was all in the student handbook, which Artemis had actually read, thank you very much.

The talk with the guidance counselor didn't last as long, but might very well have been twice as annoying. Mrs. Demanchyuk's exhortations for Artemis to embrace the experience and believe in herself and her ability to succeed in this environment because she was just so accomplished would have been a lot more helpful if they were, number one, not laced with "for your background" in every pause, and, number two, directed towards someone who actually doubted their ability.

As she often found to be the case, the problem wasn't Artemis; it was everyone else.

However, even Mrs. Demanchyuk's cloying and condescending encouragement might have been preferable to sitting out the entirety of second period in the office. Waiting. Being scolded in roundabout ways for things outside of her control wasn't exactly fun, but at least perfecting her ability to make clear that she didn't give a fuck about what was being said to her without actually doing anything that warranted a reprimand was _something_ to do.

Staring at the walls in the administrative office while the staff stared at her — and really what school needed _three_ administrative assistants? — was just boring. Artemis didn't think she would ever see the need for whatever obnoxious, overachieving, tightly-wound, trust fund baby they'd picked out to be her "student mentor" (other than making them feel a bit better by keeping the charity case reigned in), but she was willing to be the kid's best friend for life if they would just show up and get her the hell out of there.

Artemis shifted in her seat and tugged at her skirt again — she'd been kitted out in brightly colored lycra and body armor, amongst other things, and somehow a plaid skirt and crosstie still felt like the most embarrassing thing she'd ever worn — and looked up just in time to see Secretary #2 looking away.

"_Yes_, ma'am?" Artemis asked loudly and with overripe sweetness. Secretary #2 studied her, her expression flitting between sheepish and irritated.

The bell ringing, at long last, saved them both from a response. A steady, if not overwhelming stream of kids began pouring in seconds later. They picked up notes and medication, registered late slips (or attempted to wheedle their way out of them), and a few were clearly just trying to avoid their next class for as long as possible.

Artemis stared at the entryway and willed her ticket out of that particular hell to appear. In under two minutes, it did just that in the form a bespectacled redhead who took one sweeping look around the office and made a beeline straight for Artemis.

"Artemis, right?" she asked, though it didn't really seem like a question. She shifted a pile of books that evidently couldn't fit in her overstuffed backpack under one arm.

"Barbara Gordon," she introduced herself perfunctorily. "I'm your student mentor."

Artemis blinked. "Did they give you a dossier with a picture?"

"No. You just manage to look the least like you want to be here. Not to imply that it's a rare condition, but everyone else is a little bit more used to it already."

Artemis couldn't really argue with that.

"Good eye," she said as she stood. Barbara Gordon turned on her heel and weaved expertly through the crowd, leaving Artemis no choice but to follow.

The halls were crowded as well, and Barbara was waiting a few feet to the left of the office entryway. Standing out from the noise, Artemis heard overly deliberate footsteps approaching from her right before a sudden stop and retreat. She turned just in time to see a dark head disappear around a corner.

"Let me see your schedule," Barbara demanded once Artemis turned to face her again. Artemis narrowed her eyes, but decided, just this once, that it wasn't worth it. She offered the piece of paper, and Barbara only scanned it for a second before handing it back.

"Algebra II with Davis is on the other side of the school. Where's your locker?"

"1196," Artemis said. She mapped it before school. Before she knew she would be spending half of the morning sitting in the office twiddling her thumbs.

"Good, that's on the way. Let's go."

"So, no welcome speech?" Artemis asked as they started down the hall. "I'm pretty sure there has to be a pamphlet somewhere with a pre-prepared one."

"Oh there is," Barbara assured her. "Just didn't seem like you wanted one."

"Fair enough." Artemis wasn't really going to complain if her student mentor was just as uninterested in the whole affair as she was. But.

"You do seem like the type with freestyle _wisdom_ to offer, though." It came out only about seventy-five percent mocking.

In the two minutes of their acquaintance thus far, it'd become apparent that Barbara Gordon liked to stay on task. As a general rule, Artemis didn't mind brusque, but after a certain point it was hard not to take it personally. She didn't expect them to be fast friends or anything, but undisguised apathy wasn't what she'd expected either.

"Well, that depends on if you're staying around," Barbara said evenly. "It's not exactly hard to get thrown out. Especially for scholarship kids."

Artemis frowned. Tightly-wound overachiever was pretty much confirmed by her painfully perfect ponytail and the shine on her Mary Janes. Not to mention the knee socks. Artemis would have preferred the obnoxious, trust fund baby part to stay similarly implicit.

"Yeah. I can find it myself," Artemis said, not bothering to spare another glance.

Barbara grabbed her arm as she sped up, and Artemis was caught off guard mostly due to the fact that she'd actually needed to pause to try wrench away from a surprisingly strong grip.

"I didn't mean it like that," Barbara said.

Artemis was weighing the relative merits of staying and listening or making the very poor decision to cement her rep early by shoving Barbara Gordon into something, when a male voice called out.

"Who's your friend, Babsy? Introduce us!"

"Die in a fire, loser!" Barbara yelled without hesitation in the general direction of a group of guys. Nothing special that Artemis could see, but they carried themselves with the gait of people who thought they were extremely important. She imagined there was a lot of that going around here. They chuckled amongst themselves as they continued down the hall, nearly barreling over a far smaller boy who danced agilely out of the way just in time. There was no response and Barbara trained her gaze back on Artemis.

"Seriously, it came out wrong," she insisted, as if there had been no interruption.

"How should it have come out?" Artemis asked, crossing her arms as she finally extricated herself from Barbara's grip. One chance. That was what she would offer. She promised her mom that she would give this all a chance.

"A Wayne Foundation scholarship is a pretty huge deal," Barbara explained. "Huge enough that not looking even a little bit excited means that it probably wasn't your idea. At all. And unless your parents' name is on a plaque or building around here somewhere, this isn't a place you stay in if you want to be here that little."

It was a more reasonable explanation than Artemis expected. To be fair, she expected a half-assed non-apology of the sort people give when they did mean exactly what they said and still believed it, but had figured out that you weren't going to let them get away with it. So it wasn't hard to overshoot. Not that she planned to admit it. She did, however, start walking again.

"So, since we've already established that you didn't get a dossier, do they announce scholarships over the P.A. or something?"

At this, Barbara smiled. "No. Mrs. Demanchyuk is in charge of student mentoring. She sees me as the model scholarship kid so she always assigns me to the new ones. I think she thinks I'm… aspirational."

"You're on scholarship?" Well, at least she was still pretty sure about the tightly-wound, overachiever part. The jury was out on obnoxious.

The smile hadn't faded. "Partial. My dad's a cop. A pretty important cop, but nowhere near enough to swing this place on his salary."

Barbara had opened her mouth to say something else when a few pieces suddenly clicked into place for Artemis.

"Wait," Artemis said. "A cop? Your name's Gordon. As in Captain Jim Gordon?"

Barbara's good humor took an immediately perceivable nosedive.

"Yes," she sighed. "And before you ask, no, I don't know the Batman, and I can't tell you anything about him that you can't read in the paper, nor can I get you an autograph or a piece of his cape or a lock of Robin's hair or anything else."

Artemis turned a snort of laughter into clearing her throat a second before it would have been too late.

"I wasn't asking," she said, straight-faced.

Barbara looked only slightly chagrined.

"Sorry. I get that a lot. A while ago some wanna be Lois Lane even thought that maybe they could skirt the GCPD's unilateral 'no comment' by going through me. Dad was _not_ happy." Her brown furrowed in a way that made clear they were heading towards an even more well-worn and sore subject. "Not that it matters. He never tells me about that stuff anyway."

I was hard for Artemis to sympathize. She spent a large portion of her life trying to keep away from the "family business." She wasn't one for self-pity, but there were times she certainly wouldn't have minded her dad having any interest at all in keeping her even just a little bit out of it.

"He probably just wants to protect you," she offered.

Barbara was visibly unimpressed. "That's his story."

They continued on in silence for a few moments. The halls were starting to clear as time ticked down to the bell for next period, though there were still stragglers. Years of training (much of it unwanted) left Artemis unable to shake the feeling of eyes on her back. Sometimes, she felt like she'd been taught paranoia before she was potty-trained.

She didn't speak again until they made it to her locker and Barbara had had ample chance to seethe over and bury whatever control freak, father-daughter issues she had roiling around inside.

"I'm not going anywhere," Artemis announced without preamble as she stuffed her English and Biology books into her locker. She was sure to have a great time explaining why she missed both of those classes tomorrow morning. Neither Dr. Warren or Mrs. Demanchyuk had offered her a note, and she certainly wasn't going to beg for one.

"I promised my mom. It's really important to her." The last bit felt like too much as soon as she said it — true as it was — but Barbara didn't press further.

"Okay," she replied.

"So?" Artemis said, voice bone dry. "I'm still waiting on my wisdom, mentor."

Barbara waited until Artemis closed her locker, then looked at her very seriously for a long moment.

"If you're smart enough to get a Wayne Foundation scholarship, the work's not going to be a problem," Barbara said. "I mean, I can give you more on that, but it's exactly what you'd expect. The most important thing to know is that people are going to think you don't belong here. Not just students, but teachers-"

"And principals and guidance counselors and administrative assistants." Artemis didn't blink.

Neither did Barbara. "Yeah," she agreed. "And some people are never going to stop thinking it-"

"Yeah, I know. I don't care," Artemis interjected, effectively ending the lesson before its conclusion. She'd stopped trying to prove things to people a long time ago.

Barbara didn't look bothered by it. The intensity had dropped from her face and she smiled again.

"You _are_ smart. It took me about two years to work that one out."

"It's a pretty old lesson for me," Artemis offered. When your mom was a wheelchair-bound Vietnamese immigrant, your dad was a criminal, and you spent most of your life firmly on the wrong side of the proverbial tracks, existing in general taught you a lot of things that girls from Central Gotham with police captain, hero dads had to wait a little while longer to learn if they were lucky.

Barbara nodded, but didn't say anything else as they started walking again. The warning bell went off as they turned the corner.

"Can I ask you another question?" Artemis asked as the last strains of the bell faded, no longer covering the extremely faint sound of shuffling dress shoes in the distance.

"Sure." Barbara's look was curious.

Artemis considered lowering her voice, but then decided against it.

"Who's the freak that's been following us since we left the office?"

When Barbara turned it was quick, but apparently not quick enough.

"Where?" she asked.

Artemis looked back as well. There were just a few students at their lockers, none particularly interested in the two girls. The creeper seemed to have retreated.

"He was short, perfectly pressed blazer — even for here — black hair all slicked back-"

"Very, _very_ blue eyes?" Barbara interjected.

Artemis raised an eyebrow. She wouldn't have described them like that exactly, but…

"Sure."

Barbara ran one hand through her bangs and looked far more amused than Artemis would be.

"That was just Dick Grayson," she said. When Artemis gave her an uncomprehending look, she continued. "He's Bruce Wayne's — yeah, that Bruce Wayne — adopted son."

Small world. Guy sent her to school and his weirdo offspring skulked at her from the shadows. She really hoped it was just a coincidence.

"Isn't he like his illegitimate kid or something?"

Barbara shrugged. "No idea. He's never said so."

She still seemed remarkably at ease.

"I take it he normally stalks you through the halls?"

Barbara laughed. "No. I don't know what he was doing today, probably trying to surprise me or something. He's weird sometimes."

"What, are you two-"

"No," Barbara answered immediately. "Nonono. When he first came here, he was in a Math Club study group I did with advanced math students. After that, he asked me to help with him with mathlete prep. He also shows up at the Computer Science Club sometimes — I'm the president — mostly to show off."

"So, he's _not_ your boyfriend then?" Artemis was mostly joking, but Barbara actually seemed to consider it seriously, carefully choosing her words like it was something she had no small amount of practice explaining, though Artemis wasn't exactly sure to whom.

"He's… sweet," she allowed. "He walks me to class sometimes because it's 'on his way' even though it's not, and I still haven't figured out how he's getting all the way to the other side of the school that fast. There were also no fewer than half a dozen really bad sonnets stuffed into my locker last year. But, no, he is _not_ my boyfriend."

"Sounds like he wants to be your boyfriend."

"You mean, sounds like he's a hormonal thirteen year old," Barbara corrected.

Artemis shrugged. "Hey, we just met. I don't know what you're into."

"Ew! Shut up," Barbara exclaimed. Artemis might have been inclined to take offense if both of them weren't laughing so hard.

"Anyway," Barbara managed, and it had the tone of a definitive topic change. "How are you on extracurriculars? Do you prefer athletics or academics?"

"I've done my share of both," Artemis answered.

"Well, I can help you out, especially if you're interested in any of mine," Barbara said and began ticking items off on her fingers as she listed them. "You have to have been at Gotham Academy for at least a year before you can do peer tutoring or mentoring, but I doubt you're interested. I mentioned Computer Science Club and Math Club, but I also run track. I used to be on the school gymnastics team, but I quit two years ago to focus more on JO. I could still put in a word for you if that's your speed. Sometimes, I hang out around the aikido and tae kwon do clubs, but there's an outside dojo that I actually train at. And I also do community service working in the library, which is a pretty easy, and quiet, way to-"

"Slow down, I'm not a college recruiter," Artemis said and hoped it sounded as good-natured as she meant it.

"Sorry, reflex," Barbara said and it really did seem so. Definitely, definitely wound too tight.

"You study martial arts?" Artemis asked.

"I started a few years back with self-defense stuff, but I really liked it and my dad figured living in Gotham there really can't be too many to protect yourself. Why? Do you have any training?"

"Here and there."

Barbara's grin in response was wolfish. "We should spar sometime."

Artemis had jumped with much gusto on her fair share of terrible ideas, but she was actually starting to like Barbara Gordon. Sending her crying to her cop dad and possibly to the school staff because Artemis's teachers had never been very interested in the concept of pulling punches wasn't an attractive prospect for numerous reasons.

"By 'here and there'," Artemis said as casually as she could manage. "I mean, 'for my entire life.'"

Barbara's eyes gleamed in a pretty disconcerting manner, though at the very least, it made Artemis seriously reconsider the likelihood of her crying to anyone about anything.

"Even better," Barbara said before launching into the tale of the great lengths she'd gone to in her quest to get her dad's police academy instructor pal to teach her Krav Maga.

They were still talking when the bell rang. Artemis wouldn't say that she felt good about Gotham Academy as Barbara promised to meet up at lunch before dashing down the hallway. But "not unbearable" didn't seem quite so distant a dream anymore.


	2. Extra Credit

Dick didn't consider himself an overly excitable person. Indeed, he liked to think that his training (both kinds) and most of his life spent regularly contending with death-defying situations (of both sorts) left him able to keep a cool head in a crisis.

Some crises, it turned out, were a bit more affecting than others.

"Bruce!" he yelled as he hurried down the winding stone stairs into the Batcave. "We have a major, code red, emergency situation!"

Bruce sat at the Cray, in costume, but with cowl down. He was clearly in Batman-mode as he made careful alterations to a sprawling diagram of mob activity and connections in Gotham. He waited until Dick ran up just behind him before acknowledging him.

"Calm down," he ordered without turning around. "What's the problem?"

Dick bristled, but took a deep breath. Nearly walking directly into one of his teammates in the middle of his school wasn't a situation conducive to calm. Keeping The Secret was of paramount importance to Bruce and, thus, writ large in Dick's mind. He spent a torturous seven hours paying very little attention to his classes, stalking through the halls, and bursting to tell Bruce about this so that it could be _dealt with_. Then he could return to his life without wondering whether he was going to ruin everything any second because he… stood by the wrong locker for too long.

"Artemis is going to Gotham Academy," he said, once he was confident that it would come out evenly enough. "I almost ran into her this morning."

Bruce added a note to the segment of the chart marked "Bertinelli" before answering.

"I know," he replied.

"What?" Dick paused, turning over the possible explanations for this situation and this reaction in his mind. "…Wait, what?"

"She's on a Wayne Foundation scholarship."

"Why would you- Wait, does she _know_?" Everything shifted from surprising to utterly surreal. Not to mention more than a little annoying. Conspiring with Green Arrow on that obviously bogus "niece" story was one thing. Dick assumed that Bruce had a reason; he always had a reason. If he trusted Artemis enough to be on the team, then so did Dick. But to know. About them? The truth?

Dick had known Wally for years and Bruce had known the Flash for even longer. Dick was still sure that if Bruce ever found out Wally knew their identities and Dick knew about it, he'd kill them both. But suddenly, a complete newbie out of nowhere gets invited into the club? Not on.

"No, she doesn't," Bruce said and Dick was glad to let that particular load of umbrage drain away. "And she's not going to find out. She's two years older than you and you're in different grades. She's not in any of your classes and if you can't sporadically pass her in the halls without drawing attention to yourself then I've failed as a teacher. Robin and Artemis are teammates. Dick Grayson and Artemis Crock have no reason to associate."

Simple. Logical. It was exactly the sort of reassurance — the sort of _dealing with it_ — that Dick had been waiting for all day. Except. It wasn't Artemis he'd been trying to talk to that morning in the hallway.

"…Right," Dick managed, but it didn't come out firm. His voice had lately taken to cracking at the most inopportune moments possible.

And, of course, then, Bruce finally looked at him.

"Something wrong?" He made his mildly-concerned-without-looking-concerned face and for a moment — just a moment — Dick considered attempting to explain. But it was all muddled and confusing enough in his head already. He had a sudden vision of Batman (because, obviously, he'd suit up for it) trying to give him The Talk. Dick might just have preferred throwing himself off of a building without a jumpline to bringing that down on his head for no reason.

"Nope, nothing," he replied and set to considering his options.

There was a difference, he told himself the next afternoon, between stalking and doing reconnaissance. At least, he really hoped there was or else hiding in the perfectly manicured bushes on the east lawn of Gotham Academy and watching Barbara Gordon read was way weirder than he really wanted to be.

Objectively speaking, it was important that he do his best to find out exactly how much time Babs was likely to be spending with Artemis and plan from there (Plan what, he wasn't exactly sure, but it seemed very important that he make a plan.)

Thus far, however, his observations mostly consisted of the fact that Babs had taken her hair down from its ponytail somewhere between final bell and perching on a bench outside. She'd also lost her crosstie and undone the first few buttons of her crisp Oxford shirt. And, of utmost importance certainly, the ends of her hair curled around her shoulders and near her collarbones.

Dick had been engaging in physical combat with some of the world's most dangerous criminals since he was nine, but he was pretty sure he'd never felt uncomfortable in so many — highly varied — ways at once before.

He watched her bangs fall over the edge of her glasses as she leaned closer to her book, and then another layer of discomfort suddenly made itself known.

"Don't you usually hide in shadows… not shrubbery?" came a familiar voice from his left.

Years of carefully honed reflexes and the element of surprise allowed him to execute a perfect sweep and one-armed takedown — covered by the bushes — before his target had a chance to speak again. Which, all things considered, was saying a lot.

"Wally, what are you doing here?" Dick asked as forcefully as he could while maintaining a whisper.

His best friend looked up at him, incredulity and plain surprise warring in his expression.

"Dude, what the hell? You weren't at HQ for Left 4 Dead on the 50-inch flat screen so I took the tube and ran over to see what was taking so long! Not exactly a concussion offense." Wally rubbed the back of his head exaggeratedly.

"You're fine," Dick said. "Now you have to go! I'll be there later, but you can't be here."

As was often the case, Wally didn't chose to heed Dick's commands.

"Why? Is Batdad coming to pick you up from school in the Batminivan or something?"

"No! And lower your voice."

Babs was still alone, but if she noticed them then there was no guarantee that Dick would be able to get away before Artemis showed up — if she showed up. A little voice in the back of his mind (the one that often sounded suspiciously like Batman) was interested in the distinction between "get away" and "pull himself away" but Dick ignored it.

"What are you looking at?" Wally asked, sitting up and moving close enough to peer through the one slightly thin spot in the hedges in front of which Dick was crouching. He had Alfred giving him the eye about grass stains on his khakis to look forward to later.

Over on the bench, Babs tucked her hair behind her ear, her expression one of total concentration, even in profile, and crossed her legs as she leaned back again.

"Oh," Wally said and let out a low whistle. "I know this school is majorly expensive, but those skirts have _got_ to be worth it."

"Dude," Dick warned, and was torn between wanting Wally to look away immediately and not wanting Wally to see the color rising to his face.

"So, what's the story on Red Delicious?" Wally asked, grinning.

"It's not what you think," Dick protested. Except, Wally mostly only ever thought one thing, and from certain angles — most angles — it was kind of that. Not for the first time, Dick wondered exactly what it was he was doing. Sometimes, he felt like his body was making decisions without him. And not in the awesome "just dodged a bullet with a back handspring to whip to layout full that he'd barely had time to think of" way. More in the terrible "left with a pressing need to wake up before Alfred so that he could launder his own sheets in private" way. (Which, of course, rarely worked out because Alfred apparently never freaking slept ever.)

"Do you want to ask her out?" Wally pressed, and then melodramatically wiped away an imaginary tear. "I'm so proud. Little Dickie-Bird's growing up! But pro-tip: actually talking to girls drastically increases the chances of success." He paused to look back through the bushes again. "Though, she's way out of your league, so maybe-"

Dick clapped his hand over Wally's mouth just in time to muffle the exclamation as Babs put her book down and Artemis, smiling, walked up to her.

"I told you it wasn't what you think," Dick said and let it drip with smugness.

"What's _she_ doing here?" Wally asked, finally in a whisper, once Dick released him.

"Going to school."

Wally's easily apparent panic was so close to the level of Dick's own initial reaction that he actually felt a bit touched by the concern.

"Have you told You Know Who about this? It's not exactly good for the whole _secret identity _thing."

Dick sighed, both in frustration at the situation and relief at an ally in indignation.

"He already knows!"

The relief, at least, was fleeting.

"Oh, well then," Wally said, cycling down through surprise and straight to acceptance in about two seconds flat. "Besides her potentially getting to annoy you in both lives what's the big deal?"

"The _big deal_ is that he's okay with it entirely because we're in different grades and classes and everything, so he thinks if she's never around Dick Grayson she won't have a chance to figure it out."

Wally's acceptance receded, but was suddenly replaced with an edge of suspicion that Dick wasn't even ready to try to start sussing out.

"Sounds fine to me," he said a bit too forcefully. "Do you, like, want to hang around her or something?"

Still mostly facing Wally, Dick could only just see the girls in his peripheral vision: plaid and blonde and that bright, vibrant splotch of red at the corner. Wally stared him down, and Dick tried his best not to turn his head or let his eyes flicker that way. His body betrayed him again.

His eyes landed on Babs as Artemis set her backpack down beside the other girl and jogged back towards the school, evidently having forgotten something. He swallowed thickly, throat spontaneously dry.

Wally followed his gaze, and it was like the last weird ninety seconds never happened.

"Oh, I get it," he said, childlike delight in his voice. "The problem isn't Artemis. You just don't want to be cut off from her new bff, Red Delicious."

Having it laid out that way made the whole thing feel both petty and incredibly overwhelming. Maybe that was fitting. He could never decide on one or the other. Dick was taught how to think rationally, incisively — to deconstruct and understand. He had a crush; he could admit that. Maybe not to anyone else, but to himself. Yes, he had a stupid thirteen year old crush on a pretty (brilliant, funny, perfect) girl. He just couldn't convince himself to feel like that was all it was. If he ever felt like talking to anyone about it — which he usually didn't — they'd probably say that was because he was thirteen too.

"And you said it wasn't what I thought," Wally gloated, voice sly.

"Shut up," Dick replied and punched him in the arm. Across the way, Artemis had already returned. She and Babs were laughing.

Amazingly, Wally quieted. Dick didn't want to think that everything was that obviously written on his face, so he decided that he had succeeded exceptionally well at Command Voice instead.

Of course, there really wasn't much else to see. Babs and Artemis chatted amicably, snatches of conversation about plans for later filtering over to the bushes.

Dick still didn't have a plan of his own and the more he thought about it, the more it felt like he wasn't really going to come up with one. The solution was obvious, if unpleasant, and the fact that the nebulous knot of _feelings_ in his chest — distracting him and annoying him and upsetting him (and enlivening him) — were deciding to be jerks about it didn't really change anything.

"We should go," he said to Wally after a few moments. Then, without further discussion, he sprinted down the line of hedges until they had curved away and out of view of the girls. Wally was waiting for him at the other end.

"So," Wally asked as they set off away from school grounds. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm not going to do anything," Dick replied, doing his best to make it sound like that was obvious and any other option was ridiculous.

"You're just going to let Artemis steal your girlfriend, then?"

"She's not- she's not my girlfriend. She's just a girl who goes to my school," Dick said, hoping he would have more luck convincing Wally than he ever had convincing himself.

"Uh huh," Wally replied.

"I mean, yeah she's-" Brilliant. Funny. Perfect. "hot and everything, but whatever-"

"Okay, I got it," Wally said, saving them both from Dick's continued fumbling.

Sometimes, he really wished he could just skip to around age twenty-one. It would be perfect. He'd be bigger, stronger, with years more experience and training, no one would dismiss him for being a kid, and, best of all, the mere thought of Barbara Gordon wouldn't send him into an out-of-control mental and physical flail spiral.

"You can't tell Artemis," Wally continued, "so why don't you tell Red Delicious your secret id? It's perfect! What better way to impress a babe than by not only being a superhero, but trusting her with your most _intimate_ secrets."

"Because that worked so well for you with Megan."

"Low blow, dude," Wally replied. "Okay, how about this: you get Artemis to introduce you as Robin!"

"Yeah, I'm so sure Artemis would go along with that."

"You could convince Artemis that Dick Grayson is your _fake_ secret identity that's just a red herring distracting from your actual really, really secret identity?"

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," Dick said, smiling in spite of himself.

"Hey, I don't see you bringing anything to the table." Most of Wally's irritation was pretty obviously faked.

"Pretty sure even no plan is better than one of yours," Dick countered. "So, same as usual really."

Wally made an undignified snorting sound, which Dick just took as proof of his lack of comeback.

The Gotham Zeta Tube was a decent walk from Gotham Academy (at normal speed), but not so far that it was at all reasonable to get Alfred to drive all the way from the manor to pick him up and take him there. Dick was pretty certain that Artemis had no plans on a trip to Mount Justice today, but when they got within a few blocks he stuffed his blazer in backpack, pulled on a hoodie, and put on his sunglasses anyway.

Wally spent the rest of the trip rattling off terrible ideas for how to wrangle secret identity problems while dating. Though, after a while, Dick was pretty sure it had little to do with him and had become more of a mental exercise for Wally's own edification.

By the time they arrived at the Zeta Tube, they were both just recovering from a laughing fit at one plan that involved attempting to convince Artemis that Robin was actually Superman through a labyrinthine magical explanation that Wally didn't find believable, but ardently swore made as much sense as anything else with alleged magic involved.

When Dick went to activate the Tube, however, Wally stood in his way.

"All right, since discussion of Dick Grayson's Problems are gonna be off limits for the rest of the night…" Wally began, then stopped, a considered look on his face.

"Look, are you okay? Like… emotionally or whatever? You know, no… _new feelings_ you want to talk about or anything?"

Dick didn't know if he could answer that — he didn't know if he wanted to — but, still, it didn't hurt to be asked.

"Dude, don't be gross," Dick said and shoved Wally out of the way of the controls, but not hard enough to move him if he didn't want to be moved. Obligingly, Wally stepped aside.

"Look, don't blame me because you're all pubescent and can't control your loooooove for your girlfriend," Wally said as they stepped into the light.

"Shut up," Dick said, then more softly: "I'll figure it out."

The sound was mostly swallowed during the stomach dropping swoosh of teleportation, but he figured Wally got the message.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>Because FFN doesn't have any good way to mark from the start how many parts any given fic is intended to have, I'll say here that this was only a duet/two-shot/pas de deux/whatever you want to call it. So, this particular story is over now! That said, two things:

1) Someone asked me if Babs is Batgirl yet and the answer is no. However, I'm working on a much longer fic that follows this one that is, in fact, about her becoming Batgirl and features lots of Babs, Artemis, and Dick. I'll probably start posting it in a few weeks.

2) There's a distinct possibility that I'll write other one-shots regarding Gotham Academy and its attendees and add them onto this. So while I've marked it as "complete" it's more paused while I work on the aforementioned longer Batgirl fic and other shorter Young Justice fic. (Some M'gann/Superboy, if you're curious.)

Thanks for reading, everyone!


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